Chapter 2

I strutted out ahead of Noah, chin high and chest puffed, while the manager practically groveled, walking us all the way to the door with a string of yes-ma'ams and smiles.

"Would you like me to call a driver to take you home?" the manager asked.

I smirked inwardly. Of course he was kissing my ass. I'd just dropped serious cash on their top guy.

"No need. I drove myself," I replied.

I tossed my keys at Noah. "Go bring the car around."

He didn't say a word, just headed to the parking lot and pulled up in my beat-up old Chevy Spark a minute later.

I slid into the passenger seat and finally got a good look at him: six-foot-two of pure muscle folded into my tiny car like a crumpled lawn chair. His knees were practically in his chest, his back curved like a shrimp. I almost laughed out loud.

held out my hand. "Give me the card back."

He hesitated, clearly not wanting to. "I thought you were giving it to me."

"Please. I was just flexing. Deal was 1,300 for the month. Don't get greedy," I shot back.

His jaw tightened, but he fished the black card out of his pocket and handed it over without another word.

I'd barely tucked it back into my bag when a shadow fell over me.

I looked up and met Noah's face inches from mine. My heart slammed into my ribs.

"You don't have to be that eager," I managed, voice a little shaky. "I paid for you, but we can wait till we're home."

My face was on fire, and I couldn't stop the stupid grin spreading across it.

First time ever booking a male escort, and I landed Noah—the arrogant billionaire who used to make my life hell.

Watching him sell himself to me now? Pure, delicious revenge.

His hand had been reaching for my seatbelt, but it detoured smoothly and landed on my shoulder instead.

"So you wanna do this right here?" he murmured, eyes narrowing. Those gorgeous, heavy-lidded eyes locked on mine, the tiny red mole at the corner looking like it was designed to ruin me.

"No!" I squeaked, heat flooding my cheeks. "Too many people. And my windows aren't tinted." If he leaned any closer, I was going to pass out from sheer hotness.

"Good to know." The corner of his mouth curled up in that infuriating smirk.

Then he reached across me, clicked my seatbelt into place, and settled back behind the wheel.

He gripped the steering wheel exactly the way he used to in his Rolls-Royce—confident, sexy, like he owned the road. Long legs stretched, he floored it.

My little Spark lurched forward and "raced" down the city streets at a blistering forty miles an hour.

Noah had always driven himself. Back when I was his overworked assistant, I'd spent way too many rides in his passenger seat staring at those hands on the wheel, completely dazed.

Too bad he'd been a soul-sucking capitalist who wouldn't let me leave the office before midnight. Otherwise I might've actually fallen for him.

We got home, door barely shut behind us, and Noah was already moving in like he was punching a time clock.

He leaned in close, breath warm against my ear, voice low and velvet. "I'm going to kiss you now."

I had to hand it to him. He was still a workaholic. Even on the other side of the power dynamic, he was all business.

But I was the boss now. No way was I letting him run the show like the old days.

I glared up at him and barked, "You've got some nerve!"

Then I dug my fingers into his ribs, tickled hard enough to make him flinch, spun him in a quick circle like we were ballroom dancing, and shoved him back against the door.

My yell had sounded fierce, but the second I looked up into that face—my former boss's face—I deflated like a popped balloon.

God, I couldn't do it. I couldn't make the first move.

Noah's eyes darkened when I didn't budge.

"Claire, kiss me," he ordered, his voice dropping all bossy and intense.

"Copy that," I muttered.

Two years of conditioned obedience kicked in. I couldn't say no to an order from him if my life depended on it.

So I rose up on my toes and kissed him like the good little employee I apparently still was.

Ugh, damn it.